Marc
This is truly an inspirational moment, and a true BLARG from the road. I'm currently at gate N8 in the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Reminds me of Nate Leroy from Kankakee. That's how he always signs his emails. And I guess that's also how Nate Cyrier and Nate Meads always referred to themselves in writing as well. Unoriginal bastards, the lot of them.
On the MP3-phones: "Best Looking Boys" by the Promise Ring. Good stuff, good times.
I'm done with work, and trying to kill the four hours it's going to take me to get on the plane that's going to take four hours to get me to the airport that's going to begin the two and a half hour drive to Normal, where I'm going to fall asleep in approximately two minutes. Does that make sense? I have trouble sleeping on planes, although tonight I'm going to try and force myself into First Class. I doubt I'll make it, but it's worth a shot. If tonight doesn't work out, there's always April. Shouldn't be too bad, though. I'm currently slotted in seat 5C (aisle). No problem with that. Usually I prefer the window, but hey, I'm not in the middle, so who am I to complain? I'm silently hoping that no ones going to sit next to me (although I just ruined it by writing that), and I'll have plenty of space to spread out my laptop and CD's and CD Player and papers and pens. I can make a pretty mean mess over the course of four hours. Fortunately, it only takes about ten minutes to clean up.
On the MP3-phones: "Imagine" by John Lennon. I'm a hippy at heart, and this song proves it. Bring it on.
I've been on the receiving end of quite a few odd looks over the past twenty minutes or so. That's roughly how long it took me to take a phone call from Angie, read our page, check to see if I'm playing any more shows on tour, and read this. Busy, busy, busy. I just couldn't keep myself awake if I sat down in front of the gate for four hours. No one could. Sure, I could attempt to finish reading The World According to Garp, which is truly an engrossing book. But, who am I kidding? No matter what I'm reading, after a solid half-hour I start to doze off. Once, I was required to tackle Thomas Pynchon's Vineland over the course of two weeks or so. After finishing, I was to write a paper. Of course, I didn't read a lick of it until the night before the paper was due. I'm slow at reading thick stuff (both literally and symbolically). I started at roughly 3pm on one day, and finished at vaguely 7:30 am the next morning. Dan, our former Normal West High School Science teacher/roommate, was just leaving his room for the shower as I was wrapping up when he looked to his right and found me sprawled on the couch, probably looking like I belonged in somewhere between a nuthouse or a prison. I got a big, phat "C" on the paper, and you'd think I probably learned my lesson, right? That's still up in the air, seeing as how I'm not currently in school. Mom called today, though, and said that there's something interesting waiting on the counter for me. It has Illinois State University written all over it, and it says something about housing. I'm betting I got re-instated. In fact, I'll double down on the left.
On the MP3-phones: "SOS" by Kid Dynamite. Okay, so I'm not a hippy. Sue me.
This is truly an inspirational moment, and a true BLARG from the road. I'm currently at gate N8 in the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Reminds me of Nate Leroy from Kankakee. That's how he always signs his emails. And I guess that's also how Nate Cyrier and Nate Meads always referred to themselves in writing as well. Unoriginal bastards, the lot of them.
On the MP3-phones: "Best Looking Boys" by the Promise Ring. Good stuff, good times.
I'm done with work, and trying to kill the four hours it's going to take me to get on the plane that's going to take four hours to get me to the airport that's going to begin the two and a half hour drive to Normal, where I'm going to fall asleep in approximately two minutes. Does that make sense? I have trouble sleeping on planes, although tonight I'm going to try and force myself into First Class. I doubt I'll make it, but it's worth a shot. If tonight doesn't work out, there's always April. Shouldn't be too bad, though. I'm currently slotted in seat 5C (aisle). No problem with that. Usually I prefer the window, but hey, I'm not in the middle, so who am I to complain? I'm silently hoping that no ones going to sit next to me (although I just ruined it by writing that), and I'll have plenty of space to spread out my laptop and CD's and CD Player and papers and pens. I can make a pretty mean mess over the course of four hours. Fortunately, it only takes about ten minutes to clean up.
On the MP3-phones: "Imagine" by John Lennon. I'm a hippy at heart, and this song proves it. Bring it on.
I've been on the receiving end of quite a few odd looks over the past twenty minutes or so. That's roughly how long it took me to take a phone call from Angie, read our page, check to see if I'm playing any more shows on tour, and read this. Busy, busy, busy. I just couldn't keep myself awake if I sat down in front of the gate for four hours. No one could. Sure, I could attempt to finish reading The World According to Garp, which is truly an engrossing book. But, who am I kidding? No matter what I'm reading, after a solid half-hour I start to doze off. Once, I was required to tackle Thomas Pynchon's Vineland over the course of two weeks or so. After finishing, I was to write a paper. Of course, I didn't read a lick of it until the night before the paper was due. I'm slow at reading thick stuff (both literally and symbolically). I started at roughly 3pm on one day, and finished at vaguely 7:30 am the next morning. Dan, our former Normal West High School Science teacher/roommate, was just leaving his room for the shower as I was wrapping up when he looked to his right and found me sprawled on the couch, probably looking like I belonged in somewhere between a nuthouse or a prison. I got a big, phat "C" on the paper, and you'd think I probably learned my lesson, right? That's still up in the air, seeing as how I'm not currently in school. Mom called today, though, and said that there's something interesting waiting on the counter for me. It has Illinois State University written all over it, and it says something about housing. I'm betting I got re-instated. In fact, I'll double down on the left.
On the MP3-phones: "SOS" by Kid Dynamite. Okay, so I'm not a hippy. Sue me.
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